Chocolate, meet Goggles
by Yanagi of the Wind
Summary: Matt was born to a loving mother. Mello was born to a protective couple. They each spent one year with their families before unfortunate events placed them each in orphanages. Eventually, Matt ends up at Wammy's House, and meets Mello- Moody Mello, Mello Yellow, Please-don't-break-my-games Mello. Through rigorous studying and mutual hatred, can they become "friends"?Being Rewritten
1. Ribbons and Racism

14th of January, 1990

Stephen snickered to himself. Two boys, born on the same day, the same year. His older sister, Stephanie, was almost as excited as the two sets of parents when she'd heard the news.

"Oh my God they're gonna be best friends!" The thirteen-year-old had smiled, her hands waving wildly and her black ponytail bouncing along with her. "I can teach them about grunge and stuff!" She danced around, doing some strange little dance that Stephen was absolutely sure was the exact opposite of whatever 'Grunge' was.

Ms. Jeevas had giggled at her antics, while Mrs. Keehl frowned judgmentally.

"So, so!" She gushed, "When're they due~?"

Ms. Jeevas shook her head. "I haven't got a clue," she responded, while Mrs. Keehl stayed silent.

"I'll check and see on the calendar!" Stephanie assured, running inside her house and coming back a very short time later with an excited look. "Um, so, I don't know when they'll be born! But I think it might be in December!" She nodded to herself. "Yep, you know, definitely December. 'Cause they'll be like little Christmas presents, and that would be just _so_ cute."

He hadn't followed his sister's logic back then, but it didn't matter. She was off by a few weeks, and the two boys- Mihael Keehl and Mail Jeevas- were both born on the sixth of January, Mihael having been born about two hours before Mail.

Now, Stephaen and Stephanie peered over the two strollers that sat side-by-side, each with a tiny, bald, sleeping newborn in it.

"They're sooo _cuuute_," Stephanie whispered over the two, cooing and acting in an incredibly annoying way. She looked up at the two mothers, both of them having their backs turned around to Stephen and Stephanie's mother. Suddenly serious, Stephanie whispered to Stephen, "You got the ribbon?"

The ten-year-old rolled his eyes at his sister, yet still removed the long red ribbon from his jeans pocket. "Yeah, I've got it, but we can't tie it around their fingers with those little mittens on," He told her. It was her turn to roll her eyes.

"Just take the mittens off!" She sighed, as if it were obvious.

"Won't they scratch themselves, then?"

Stephanie huffed and held out her hand.

"Know what, just give the ribbon to me and I'll take care of it, Mister Stick-up-the-butt."

He passed it over to her, and she frowned, angry. "You got it all tangled up!" She complained, tugging at the bright red knots.

"Whatever. Why did you want to do this, anyway?" He asked, ignoring the annoyed and slightly dramatic grunts that came from her as she tried to loosen the knots with her teeth.

"My classmate from Japan said that 'red ribbons on the rittle fingers guarantee a rife-rong friendship that can never be destroyed'." She giggled and imitated his accent again, thinking how cute it was. "Rittre babies with strings on their rittre fingers wirr be friends for rife!"

Stephen rolled his eyes again as Stephanie finally undid the final tangle and tugged on Mail's baby-blue mitten. She tied the string gently around his smallest finger.

"Say, Steph, are you sure that's a good idea?" He asked her.

"As sure as Becky loves Jesse!" Stephanie then whispered under her breath, "But any girl with a brain would love someone so fine and-" The girl cut herself off, blushing faintly. Nope, she wouldn't say anything like that in front of her little brother.

Stephanie then moved to Mihael's mitten, tugging it off his hand. Before she could slip the ribbon around his finger, though, he began squalling and crying at the top of his lungs, and Stephan had to cover his ears to buff out the loud shrieks.

"Stephanie Gena Loud, what in the world are you doing?!" Their mother gasped.

Mrs. Keehl ran over and grabbed up Mihael protectively in her arms, glaring coldly and furiously at Stephanie. Stephen backed away from the angry mother, stereotypically comparing the Russian woman with a mother bear in his mind. _No, I don't want to be eaten today, thank-you very much_, he thought.

"I was only doing this Asian ritual thing so they'd be friends," His sister whined, oblivious to the fact that Mrs. Keehl looked ready to tear into her at any second.

"Honey," Ms. Jeevas told her gently, "I think they can be friends on their own. There's no need for any strange rituals."

"Absolutely no need!" Mrs. Keehl snapped, still shooting a mean look at Stephanie.

"Okay," Stephanie sighed, shoulders slumping slightly.

Stephen laughed inwardly at his sister's pouting face. Maybe she would listen to him more often, now.

-O-

6th of January, 1991

"Well, Godava, I think it's okay that you and Mihael are Russian if you're catholic," Stephan's mother assured her. "We don't think any less of you just because you aren't American."

Mrs. Keehl gave an expression that stated, _Woman, my son and I don't need your approval on anything. So what if I'm Russian? _But Mr. Keehl just smiled and nodded.

"I don't think it matters if Godava's Russian," Ms. Jeevas chirped, oblivious to the slight frown taking hold of Mrs. Loud's face. "Even if she weren't catholic, she's a person just as much as we are." Mrs. Keehl rolled her eyes, but turned her head away and smiled, happy about her best friend's opinion.

"I heard from some friends that Russians are actually Satanists," Stephanie said nonchalantly. _Says the girl who dresses like a goth now_, Stephen thought.

"I am most certainly NOT a Satanist!" Mrs. Keehl gasped, obviously offended by the suggestion.

"I was only saying," Stephanie shrugged. "But ya know, Godava, you oughta be careful, anyway. Even if you're catholic, there're still people who support an all-white America."

"Tell me again," Mrs. Keehl growled out, "When we became friends on a first-name basis?"

Stephanie put her hands up and wore a sheepish grin.

Stephen sipped a bit of his soda and glanced over at the two toddlers sitting together in a blue playpen. Even though his sister had been overly-excited at home, crying out, "First birthday! It's their first birthday!", now, she was putting up her typical gothic 'I don't care about anything' front, and to be blunt, it was boring. Stephen did not want to talk about racism with the adults and his sister, nor did he want to go and watch little Mihael yank on the reddish tuft of hair growing out of Mail's head. He sighed when Mail began to cry and Mihael prodded the other's cheek, pouting.

"Now, now," Ms. Jeevas cooed and cuddled her son. "It's okay, it's okay."

And then Mihael began to cry.

Mrs. Keehl rushed over to her son and bounced him on her hip, but despite their efforts, neither boy would quit yelling and clinging to their mother. Mr. Keehl hung his head and put a hand to his forehead before deciding to grab a piece of chocolate and stuffed it in his son's mouth.

So then Mihael was quiet, but he still clung to his mother with a death grip. Mail was latched to his mother, too, cries reduced to a whimper.

"Well, I wonder what possibly could have set them off like that," Stephen's mother wondered, and Stephanie shook her head, shrugging again, obviously resisting the urge to rush over to the two children and help calm them.

A loud crash sounded at that very moment, and a brick came flying through the Keehls' window.

"Oh my god!" Stephanie screeched. Mrs. Loud immediately grabbed Stephen and Stephanie and forced them to sit down with her, covering their heads.

Ms. Jeevas and Mrs. Keehl did the same as Stephen's mother, but Mr. Keehl ran outside to confront the vandals.

"What the hell do you think you're do-" The sentence was cut off by a bang.

"No!" Mrs. Keehl plopped Mihael down in the playpen and ran outside, followed by Ms. Jeevas, who'd placed Mail next to Mihael and followed her friend frantically, shouting, "No, Godava! You can't do that!"

The front door slammed, and the seconds felt like hours to Stephen, the air feeling like a heavy object, and in his panic he found it almost hard to breath. He was painfully aware Stephanie's nails digging into his hand. His mother was squeezing the life out of him.

Another shot.

He felt his mother crying silently, little tears dripping down onto the side of his face. He might have been crying, too. His sister was shaking beside him, whispering, "Mommy, I'm scared!", thick black eyeliner being trailed down her face.

One more shot.

His mother let out a choked sob, and the two toddlers began wailing again, Mihael first, and then Mail. Stephanie wailed with them.

The sound of footsteps echoed outside, and the screech of tires speeding down the streets.

Stephen didn't move. Neither did Stephanie, nor their mother. It was a long time before Mrs. Loud stood up, brushed herself off, calmly told her children to stay where they were, and walked outside. Stephanie stood, too, and sat beside the playpen. Stephen did as his mother instructed, thoughts beginning to swirl in his head.

At first, he was happy Mihael and Mail were too young to be able to remember any of this. Then, he coldly thought, _Happy birthday, boys. You're one year old today_.

-O-

**A/N: And so begins the first chapter of this fanfiction! Yay! I imagine in this fanfiction, by the way, that Matt and Mello would leave the orphanage when they were about seventeen- Because this is my fanfiction, and so it's AU, and I don't want Kira to come in.**

**Ever.**

**Also, I know they weren't really born on the same day. I wanted them to be, here, though, so I chose a day in-between their birthdates.  
**

**So, I used Gevanni here, since he was about ten years old when Matt and Mello were born. I wanted to have an actual character, but one who isn't a main character, so I used him and gave him an older sister (who is not going to turn up often, and not until much later). Was the even of the parents' deaths to predictable? I hope not, but the only way I can become a better, less predictable writer is to practice, so there I go!  
**

**My goal with this is to write a fanfiction about Mello and Matt's life at Wammy's, but to make it original, and not so much like other fanfictions that all describe their lives in the same way. Or something like that. Whatever, I'm gonna try and finish a fanfiction this time. **

***Puts face right up to the computer* Do you see my resolve face? You've seen it before; you know what it means!**

**Okay. Things are getting bad when I start quoting Willow, so I'll just get back to typing.**


	2. Meeting Mello

9th of December, 2002

The car pulled to a stop outside of two giant iron gates. Mail lifted his head off of the window to look at the building, a little spot present where his breath had fogged the window up.

"We've arrived," The driver told him, and older man with grey-streaked black hair.

Wordlessly, Mail turned to the side and grabbed his suitcase. He sighed out, only because he had to move. He'd finally gotten comfortable with his place in the car, and now it was time to get out. Switching orphanages was always troublesome. It looked cold outside.

An old man in a black suit strode through the wide gates and opened the car door for Mail. Mail slid out, dragging his suitcase along behind him. His suspicions were confirmed- The weather was very cold, and the chill seeped through his striped shirt, and he wished he had a good jacket. He was momentarily appreciative of his orange goggles for keeping his eyes from stinging in the cold.

"Er- Welcome to Wammy's House for Extraordinary Children," The man told him. "I am Roger." He didn't sound welcoming. He sounded like a tired old man who now had yet another brat to watch after.

"Hey," Mail greeted, emotionlessly. _Don't tell me _this_ is the caretaker_, he thought.

"Well, come along then, we've got to have you set up with an alias before you meet any other children."

Mail didn't bother asking why that was. Honestly, he didn't care. He didn't like the name 'Mail', anyway. The man looked down to him, expecting him to ask the reason, before continuing unprompted.

"As you should have been told, Wammy's House for Extraordinary Children, more often referred to as 'Wammy's House', or just 'The House', is an orphanage devoted to the care of genius children, established by Quillsh Wammy, who is a genius himself."

Taking Mail's silence as a sign to go on, he continued, "The children here are all required to go by an alias of their choice due to security reasons. They are all ranked according to their grades, and the results of each month's testing are posted on the final day of every month."

They arrived at the front door to the building, a towering beige-colored place made from bricks. Behind them was a vast yard, kept green even in late December, lush and obviously expensive to keep up with. Mail was sure he would never walk across it, unless his games were taken from him and he was forced to go outside. Then again, he wouldn't stay if he couldn't have his games.

Roger opened the door for Mail before carrying on: "The children with the top grades have a chance to become successors to the world-famous detective, L, in the case that he should retire, or when he dies. This is the top reason for the previously stated alias all of our children have."

Roger stopped and turned to Mail, his face turning very serious. "This is no ordinary orphanage." He said grimly, and then kept walking. "All who live here are highly intelligent individuals, with intelligence that is absolutely off the charts. Wammy's House is designed to suit each and every one of these geniuses and their minds, no matter what it is that they require. The House doubles as a school, and because all the children have strengths and weaknesses, the classes, therefore, are designed to fit the requirements of the children in a broad variety of subjects."

Turning to Mail once more, one hand on the doorknob of yet another door they'd come to in the hallways of the tremendous house, he asked, "Do you understand?"

"Yes sir," Mail said, nodding. He kept his face expressionless.

"Good." Roger opened the door and the moment they stepped in, a blonde girl wearing all black hurled herself off a wooden desk and clenched her fists tightly, papers scattering and the little jar of ink pens spilling over.

"Good gracious, Mello!" Roger exclaimed, but the exclamation didn't hold shock; rather, it held annoyance, as if something like this happened on a weekly basis. "What in the-"

"Roger, I refuse to have a fucking roommate!" The blonde yelled, stomping over to Roger, hands on his hips. _Woah_, Mail thought. _I was wrong_. That's_ not a girl_.

"Mello, I have explained to you before! Your room, Linda's room, and Near's room are the only ones left suitable for habitation since that _last_ stunt you pulled!" Roger snapped. "All the other empty rooms had bits off the wall blown up; the one on the top floor still has a hole in the ceiling! It is your own fault, and you are going to take responsibility for your actions!" Mail noticed that he said 'last' as if it also happened on a weekly basis.

Mello glared at the old man, and for a brief moment, Mail thought he was going to punch the man, but instead, he turned his gaze to Mail.

"And just who the fuck are you?" Mello demanded.

Mail thought quickly, not having forgotten the alias he was supposed to have had.

"I'm Matt," He told him without emotion and without hesitation. Mello continued glaring.

"So you're the asshole who's gonna be rooming with me?" Mello asked in an accusing tone.

"Apparently so," Mail- No, _Matt_, now- Responded. He kept completely calm in the face of the dangerous-sounding boy, but he figured, _Ha. His bark is probably worse than his bite._

It was an inappropriately-timed thought, however, because, at that very moment, Mello punched Matt in the face and calmly said, "I'm boss around here, got it, you little-"

"Mello, that is _enough_!" Roger yelled, horrified. "He hasn't even been here ten minutes, and already you're punching him!"

"Oh, what the fuck _ever_," The other child droned disrespectfully, bored, and shoved his fists into his pockets.

_No, no, I'm fine_, Matt thought dryly as he stood straight again, shaking his head to clear it. _I'm only bleeding a little bit, and my nose doesn't hurt _that_ much_.

"I'm sorry," Roger apologized to Matt. "He has- _trouble_- containing his emotions."

Matt nodded and wiped the slight spot of blood from his nose, his agitation fading, only to be replaced with apprehension. He was going to be rooming with this- this- delinquent of a child? One who punched him without hesitation, unprovoked? Just great, he sighed inwardly. What's next, bags of pot hidden in his pillowcase? Cocaine hidden in candy wrappers, disguised as sugar? Ha.

Roger sighed. "If you're going to be punching him and beating on him already, then I'll have to consult with Near about having our new member room with him. Just get to escorting Matt around the House." His mouth twitched down at the corners and he added, "One scratch on that boy, and you're going to be locked in your room for a month."

"Whatever, Roge," Mello shrugged and headed out the office door.

Matt moved to follow but Roger placed his hand on Matt's shoulder and told him, "If he seems like he's going to harm you, tell me immediately."

"Yes sir," Matt responded, not allowing his nervous emotion to effect his voice, and followed after Mello.

He found Mello leaning against the wall a few yards away from the office, an impatient look on his face. "Took ya long enough," He said.

"It only took about two seconds," Matt retorted.

"Well, come the hell on, then," Mello sighed and walked down the hall, Matt trailing behind him. "Got any questions?" He asked in a tone that clearly stated, _It's not like I'll answer them._

"Yeah, actually," Matt answered.

"Too bad," The blonde told him in a sing-song voice.

Matt sped up and walked in front of Mello. Mello stopped abruptly with a slightly angry look on his face.

"Why did you punch me?" Matt demanded, crossing his arms. Mello smirked, and as an answer, pulled a small silver key from his pocket.

"A key?" Matt asked. What the hell would a key have to do with a punch?

"Not _a_ key, _the_ key. The key to the cafeteria."

"That still doesn't answer my question. Why did you punch me?"

Mello huffed and spoke slowly and simply, as if Matt were a small child: "Roger went out to collect you, so I snuck into his office to steal the cafeteria key, but he came back quicker than I expected. I had to jump off the desk and act like I was there to argue about my new roommate. Punching you and getting scolded gave me an excuse to put my fists- and the key- into my pockets."

Matt rolled his eyes and waited for Mello to keep walking, but the other stood there and crossed his own arms, reflecting Matt's stance.

"Why are you wearing goggles?" He asked, right in the middle of the empty hallway.

Matt shrugged. "They look cool." He waited for Mello to take him to their room.

"And just _how_ old are you, again?"

"I'm twelve," Matt responded indignantly. Age had nothing to do with goggles. Then again, neither did punches and keys.

Mello frowned, but started walking again. Matt followed behind him for a few minutes, until they reached two large, light brown doors.

"Wait, is this _your_ room?" Matt asked, surprised, not expecting a childs' room to have such big doors.

"Pfft, hell no."

Mello spun the little silver key around on his finger before slipping it into the keyhole on the left door and twisting it. He pushed the apparently heavy doors open and strutted into the empty lunchroom, a gigantic room with white tiles, and circular wooden tables arranged tastefully. Matt lifted an eyebrow.

"So this is the cafeteria." It wasn't a question.

"Yup."

The blonde went to the back of the room, twisted the key in another lock, and pushed open another door. Unsure about being alone in the doorway of the room, he followed the other boy and flinched when Mello turned on the lights, rummaging around through different boxes of assorted sizes.

"It's gotta be here somewhere, dammit," Mello cursed, tossing foods behind him in his search for whatever it was he needed.

"Uhh, what are you-"

"Aha!" Mello shouted, emerging from a particularly large box, holding some brown bar high above his head like a trophy.

"Chocolate?" Matt deadpanned. "You stole a key and broke in here for chocolate?"

Mello made a face at Matt before hefting the box up and walking away. Matt reluctantly followed, hoping he wouldn't get into some sort of trouble and have his games taken away on the first day. Sure, he'd been playing the same four games over and over and over, but it was better than nothing, and he'd be damned if he was going to let this moody jerk get them confiscated.

Then an awful, horrible thought crossed his mind. What if his new roommate was the type to destroy video games?

_Okay, Mail, stay calm_, Matt instructed himself. _Maybe- Maybe you can get him used to the idea of video games. Maybe he'll agree not to call you a nerd and crack open your memory card if you let him play The Wind Waker. Maybe he won't find out about Animal Crossing. _

They'd come to a stop. Mello twisted open the doorknob and threw open the door with a loud _Slam _that jolted Matt out of his thoughts.

"Well, here's my room. Keep outta my shit and I won't pound your face in." Matt mentally panicked at the boy's words. He was definitely going to trash Matt's GameCube.

"Thanks," Matt said, grateful for his self-control. He wouldn't stutter. He looked up.

Oh god.

There were chocolate wrappers _everywhere_.

What was that about hiding cocaine in candy wrappers?

"So," Matt attempted to make small-talk, "How old are you, Mello? I already told you I'm-"

"Twelve," Mello finished, unwrapping a chocolate bar from the box. "You're twelve, I'm twelve."

"Oh. Heh. Next you'll tell me you were born on January sixth," Matt joked. Mello made some sort of motion that looked like he'd choked on his chocolate bar, but said nothing.

"Uh…. So…. Where are all the others?" Matt asked. "It's an orphanage, and if there were no free rooms-"

"It's a Monday, stupid. They're all in class. I'm only out to make sure you don't fuck anything up or get lost. Of course," He snapped off a piece of a chocolate bar before continuing, "Now we don't even have to room together. I can let the Q-tip deal with you."

Mello's rude interruptions were getting pretty damn annoying.

"How lovely," Matt muttered under his breath.

He unzipped his suitcase and shuffled his clothes around- all striped shirts and navy blue jeans- and proceeded to remove the Gameboy he'd hidden between them all. Matt stifled a yelp of horror when Mello observed his Animal Crossing disc.

"So you're into games like this, huh? Isn't it a girls' game?" He droned in the same disrespectful tone he'd used earlier.

"No, it isn't!" Matt assured, voice a note higher than before.

"Whatever." Mello's eyes suddenly sparked, and he yanked up Matt's memory card. "You've got a memory card?!" He gasped.

"Y-Yeah-"

Mello crossed his arms and glared at Matt, determined.

"Okay. You let me use this memory card, and I'll teach you how to play games that aren't for pussies and chicks."

Matt blinked. Mello played games, too?

"Uh- Sure-"

"Good. I've got Resident Evil 0 and Mortal Kombat 5."

Matt felt himself smile. Maybe he could get along with Mello.

"Oh, and this-" Mello picked up Animal Crossing and snapped it cleanly in two. "-Has got to go."

Nope.

-O-

**A/N: Second chapter! Yay! Okay, so, cliché ending is cliché, but I will make up for it in later chapters- As soon as I figure out what I'm gonna write! I plan to update weekly, and I'm going to try really hard to finish the story with lots of faves and reviews just because it'll be so good~! **

**I've never actually played any Resident Evil or Mortal Kombat, by the way. I've only played Animal Crossing, Pokemon, and the very first bit of Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker. I used to call it "Wind Walker". *sighs* I'm a shitty gamer, but I'm good at studying, so I should be able to make this seems realistic!**

…**.Hopefully!**


	3. Near, the Toy-Loving Albino

9th of December, 2002

Matt jumped at the knock on Mello's door. He'd been on edge since Mello let him into his room, and then even more on edge as he watched the glee on Mello's face as he destroyed various zombies on a violent video game Matt had never heard of.

"What?" Mello snapped at the door, not looking away from the screen.

The door opened slowly, almost cautiously, and a face peeked through, framed by starch-white hair.

"Hello, Mello."

Mello whirled around, zombies forgotten, and snarled at the door: "What in hell's name are you here for, Near?!"

The person behind the door didn't even flinch. He, seeming to decide it was safe to fully open the door, said calmly, "I have come to retrieve the one called 'Matt'."

The boy was pale, with completely white- Were those pajamas? And snow white hair that didn't look bleached.

Mello crossed his arms and smirked. "So you've got to share your room now, hm?"

"Yes, though if you hadn't flushed that cherry bomb down Roger's private toilet, the upper corridors would not have flooded, and if you had not planted the other cherry bomb in the remaining free room, there would not be a hole in the ceiling and the room would therefore be usable."

_Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on. How- How did a twelve-year-old even get a cherry bomb? _Matt thought. _Wait, what is a cherry bomb?_

"Yeah, well, if Roger weren't such a fucking Nazi, I wouldn't have had to bomb the place."

"He refused to allow you to have a third cup of chocolate pudding because you stole Linda's lingerie," Near stated. Evidently through with the discussion, Near turned to Matt and said, "You must be Matt. Please come with me."

Matt turned to look at a snickering Mello, probably remembering whatever prank he'd pulled, and grabbed up his suitcase and games, following Near out the door.

"So- Uh- who are you, again?" Matt asked, struggling to think of something to say other than, _thank-you for getting me away from that creepy psychopath before he murders me_, because that would probably be offensive.

"I am Near," the white-haired child told Matt, not looking at him.

"Oh," Matt said. He could think of nothing else to say, but soon enough, they'd arrived in front of an oak door with a painted-white sign, on it engraved a fancy-looking N.

"This is my room; now, ours," Near told him.

"Thank-you," Matt thanked him. Near didn't answer; instead, he walked in and began shoving the toys that littered the floor of the entire room to one side, so that half the room was clean and clear.

"That's a lot of toys," Matt commented.

"Yes, it is."

"Do you prefer any certain ones?" Matt asked, attempting to make small talk.

"I like the Shogun Warriors and Transformers," Near told him blankly.

Matt popped open his suitcase and pulled out the two halves of his Animal Crossing disk, silently mourning his lost game. At least his memory card was safe- Until Mello decided he's bored of games.

"So, do you like video games?"

"Not particularly."

"Oh. Well, I guess you wouldn't mind that Animal Crossing was broken, then, huh?" Near only shrugged, so Matt continued, "Why do you think Mello broke my game?"

Near turned to Matt. "You should stay away from Mello, for your own health. I'm sure you already figured that out, however."

Matt nodded. "Mm-hmm. But is Mello always like that?"

Near blinked and said thoughtfully, "Mello's behavior is…. _Interesting_," The white-clothed child twirled a finger through his hair and played with a robot toy.

"Define interesting," Matt said, unnerved by the seemingly emotionless child's sudden, slight change of tone.

"Capable of holding one's attention; Arousing a feeling of interest-"

"_Mello's_ interesting."

Near looked up, brow raised. "Oh god, oh god, we're all going to die?"*

Matt resumed unpacking, feeling his face pale. To say he was worried would be an understatement. Maybe things would have been different if he had parents. If they hadn't given him up.

-O-

"Matt, the bell that just rang was the bell that announces lunch. Has someone already shown you where the cafeteria is, or would you like me to escort you there?" Near asked.

Matt looked up from his GameBoy, realizing how empty his stomach felt. He hadn't even eaten since breakfast this morning at his last orphanage- Saint Joseph's Children's Home- and that seemed like forever ago. Moving seemed to do that to him. Besides, if he said he already knew the way there, Near might ask how, and Matt couldn't tell him that he helped Mello steal chocolate from the lunchroom. So in any case, he'd have to accept.

"Yeah, sure, thanks." He followed Near to the giant doors of the lunchroom, feeling slightly more at ease with the big room full of about thirty or so children of different ages. Near led him to a buffet-styled lunch line, and Matt was surprised to see that there were many different kinds of food- Good looking food. Expensive food.

"You can just walk around and chose whatever you like," Near explained. "I'll wait for you once you're done."

Matt picked up an expensive-looking tray and served himself some simpler dishes. After grabbing some silverware, he followed Near back to a table where a blonde teenaged girl was sitting. Matt hoped this one really was a girl.

"Hi, Near!" The girl exclaimed. Well, it looked like a girl, and spoke like a girl, so it was probably a girl. "Who's the cutie?" She asked, leaning her chin on her palms and gently kicking her legs.

"Hello, Linda. This is Matt," Near answered, setting his plate across from her and taking a seat.

Matt sat between Near and Linda the round table and waved. "Hi."

"Well, nice to meet you, Matt! My name is Linda and I'm sixteen! How old are you~?" The girl asked.

"Twelve years old," he answered. He picked up his fork- Silver, he noted- And ate his cake first.

"So Matt, what's your _thing?" _Linda asked, smiling.

"My thing?"

"Oh- Yeah, well, all the kids here have some hobby or something. I'm an artist, and Near likes toys. You?"

"I play video games a lot," Matt offered. "Is there anything else I shou-"

With a splash, Near's white head was covered with chocolate milk, the liquid dripping down his shoulders.

"Hello, Mello," Near said evenly, making no move that showed he was bothered.

"Why the Hell were you corrupting the newbie and turning him into yet another goddamned sheep?!"

"I was only socializing with him and getting him acquainted with The House artist," Near told him blankly. Matt wondered briefly why someone as cruel as Mello hadn't been kicked out yet.

"You know, Mello," Matt said, "You're kind of mean. I think I would rather be around Near."

Mello looked like he'd swallowed something bad. "Fuck you! If Roger wasn't threatening to lock me in my room, I'd beat the Hell outta you!" He spun on his heel and stormed away.

"Here, let me help clean you up!" Linda fretted, grabbing her napkin and sliding next to Near.

"Thank-you Linda," Near said quickly, and grabbed a napkin, himself.

A bell rang somewhere in the room, and children started picking up their trays and tossing out their leftovers. Matt glanced to Near.

"You go on," he said. "You know the way back to the room." Matt thanked him, threw away his trash, and left.

-O-

Once back in his new room, on his new bed, Matt relaxed and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a hard string of black rosary beads, observing the metal cross at the end. He didn't know why he had it. There were plenty of religious children at Saint Joseph's, but he'd never been one to worship. He'd only found the rosary sticking partway out of the ground outside and had dug it up. He never bothered to ask anyone if it belonged to them. Even if it was useless to him, he felt like keeping it.

He replaced it in his pocket and pulled out his precious GameBoy from between the mattresses. It didn't matter. He'd figure out the use of the rosary one day.

* * *

_* Firefly reference! Yay!_

**A/N: New chapter! It's shorter than what I usually want to write (barely over four pages, while I usually write seven to eight pages), so I decided to update early. And good news! I have the idea of some chapters plotted out! That's way more than I usually do!  
**

**So, Linda is older than the others here, Mello wasted his chocolate milk on bullying, and Matt owns a rosary. Well. I'll find a way to make this more interesting. As in, _actually_ interesting.  
**

**And, just in case you're confused- Matt thinks his mom gave him away. Thinks. It's only been two chapters, I won't have forgotten that Matt and Mello's parents died in a drive-by shooting or whatever you call it.  
**


	4. Near, the Cause of All Suffering

**A/N: WARNING- There's a shit ton of cursing in this chapter. It _is_ Mello, after all. Just so ya know.**

* * *

December 10, 2002

**Mello's point of view**

Mello grit his teeth and ignored the cautious knock on his door. He was always studying at this time, every day. All the orphans knew to leave him the fuck alone, especially when he was studying, so the knock was probably just some slip-up somebody had made- they must have tripped and tried to balance themselves and accidentally-

_Knock knock_! A little more confident this time.

Dammit! Who the fuck-

"Uh, Mello? Are you in there?"

Matt. The new kid. _Of course_.

"I'm studying! Fuck off!" Mello took a deep breath and returned to his reviewing. Sure, he already knew the Pythagorean theorem, and had for some time, but as quickly as he could solve it, there was still that one little fucker who could solve it fas-

"You still have my memory card and I need it back!" That little _bitch_. Was he really back-talking? To Mello?

"Okay, come on in," Mello sweetly called through the door, slammed his book shut, and got into position.

As soon as the doorknob turned and Matt's goggled face peeked through, Mello hurled his math book at Matt as quickly and as powerfully as his twelve-year-old muscles would let him. Matt yelped, leapt back, and put his arms up in front of his face. The book missed him by centimeters.

"What- Why did you do that?!" Matt demanded, relaxing his arms to stare incredulously at Mello. Mello scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"I was studying, and you interrupted me," He said.

"That's no reason to _throw a book _at someone!"

"It is for me," Mello shrugged and turned back to his desk, pulling out a bar of chocolate from his special chocolate-only drawer. Behind him, Matt was shaking his head and pulled the memory card out of the GameCube.

"Oh, Matt," The blonde piped up, opening up another math book and flipping through the pages to the chapter about the Pythagorean Theorem.

"Yeah?" Matt asked, already halfway out the door. He looked like he wanted to get away as quickly as possible.

"Tell Near I said 'Fuck you'," he told him. The look on Matt's face was priceless (not that Mello was looking at him). Matt scurried from the room, and Mello snapped off another piece of his candy bar. He released a relieved breath, calming down now that that was over, and began writing notes that he already had engraved into his memory in hope that they'd sink deeper and maybe, just maybe, he could beat Near.

_The Pythagoras' Theorem, better known as the Pythagorean Theorem, is most often used to determine the hypotenuse (the side opposite the right angle, or the 90 degree angle) of a right-angled triangle, or the area of squares on the sides of a right-angled triangle. The formula _a2 + b2 = c2 _is called the Pythagorean Equation, and is typically used to_

Mello sighed, dropping his pencil down on his desk, not bothering to finish writing the sentence. This was boring. He didn't want to fucking study things he'd known for so long. If someone asked him to recite any part of the Pythagorean Theorem, he could do it without batting an eye. He wondered if maybe he could write something a little more advanced without the aid of a textbook….

_Calculus, the study of change, is of extreme importance. It is used in every branch of physical and computer science, as well as medicine, economics, and engineering. It is one of the few mathematical subjects learned in school that will actually be used in the 'real world', as long as you don't drop out in high school and end up working at a fast food restaurant. _

No, he knew this all too well, too, and now he was being put in an even worse mood. He put down his pencil (See: carelessly threw in somewhere behind him), pushed his chair out, and decided to leave the room. Maybe he could climb a tree and watch some of the kids playing outside, all happy to be out of their classes for the day. He could study them playing, and take his own statistics over the course of a month on what children prefer to play on the playground…

He immediately went back into his bedroom to grab notepad, finding his pencil had rolled just underneath his bed. He was glad he thought to look underneath where the black bed sheets touched the floor, and mentally scolded himself for throwing his last usable pencil off somewhere. He'd have to get more from Roger soon.

Mello got up from the floor and headed outside, anxious to begin his new project, but was knocked into by none other than-

"Near!" Mello snapped, rubbing his head and glaring at the albino boy who had fallen to the floor. "Watch where the hell you're going!"

Near stood and brushed the invisible dirt off of his backside, answering with, "You're mistaken. I was walking down the hallway back towards my bedroom, and in your hurry, you crashed into me. If we were driving it would be considered a broadside collision, and by law," He twirled a strand of colorless hair around his finger, "I would be able to file a lawsuit against you." Mello ground his teeth, thinking of the marvelous ways he could find to tear Near limb from limb. He felt better after that.

Near, either oblivious to Mello's fantasizing, or just ignoring it, tilted his head and asked, "Where _were_ you going in such a rush? Certainly, you don't have anymore classes for today?"

The blonde crossed his arms and sneered. "Afraid I'm gonna steal your place?" He began walking again, hoping to get outside without the conversation being extended, but Near followed him and answered what was meant to be a rhetorical question.

"No, not really," Near told calmly. "Being number one is quite stressful; sometimes I wish _I_ were second best." He didn't sound like he'd meant to insult him, but Near never sounded like he had _any_ emotion, and Mello knew that.

"Fuck you, Near," Mello scowled, practically able to feel his blood boiling. _One of these days,_ he thought furiously, _I will _find_ a way to make your life into a living Hell!_

"There is no need to repeat yourself. Matt delivered your message the moment he got through the door. I believe he was afraid of the consequences had he not sworn at me."

"Damn straight he was afraid," Mello confirmed. "He's only been here a day and a half and he knows I'll fuck his shit up."

Near continued on next to Mello in silence, apparently through with the conversation and not willing to make any attempts at small-talk. It was just as well with Mello, who, despite hating Near being this close to him, was glad he wouldn't need to speak with him.

When they'd arrived at the front doors that led into the yard and Near was still beside Mello, however, the latter turned to Near and scowled. "Why the Hell are you still following me?"

Near stared boredly at Mello and answered, "I was not following you. I was headed outside, myself, and since this was the best path to take, I accompanied you."

Mello felt his eye twitch and glared daggers at the other boy, who was not intimidated by the glare. Without needing to think (Or rather, without caring about the consequences), he swept his leg around and tripped Near, who fell over onto his rear for the second time that day. He scoffed and walked out the door.

"Hey! You aren't supposed to do that!" Mello heard from behind, and sighed as he had his second confrontation with Matt that day.

"Since when have I done what I'm supposed to?" He said, before remembering that Matt was new and covering his actions with, "I don't really care, and if some twerp's gonna follow me then I'm gonna hurt him." He crossed his arms and said, "That goes for you, too."

Matt, who had helped Near to his feet, gulped visibly and said, "How can you not care what you do to other people? That's really awful-"

"So what?" Mello cut him off. "Just because it's awful doesn't mean it won't happen. Hell, if I didn't show all the rest of these little brats that people can be mean, they probably wouldn't even realize there's a such thing as evil. They're so pampered all the time, it's a miracle they aren't all complete snobs."

Matt didn't respond, but Mello glared at him and didn't miss his flinch. "So," Mello started, "Am I going to have to go outside with the Q-tip _and _you?"

Matt chewed his lip before answering, "That Roger guy said all children need to spend at least one hour outside, so I decided not to risk having my games taken away and instead chose to do what he said."

Mello rolled his eyes and went outside the hall, not bothering to wait for the other boys. He pushed a smaller child out of the way, who was about to complain when she saw who it was, and quickly ran off with her brown braids flopping wildly. The blonde felt a bit satisfied with the power he had and headed over to one of the closer trees that surrounded The House, climbing its trunk up to one of the limbs so he could observe the children playing.

Mello, having lived at Wammy's his entire memorable life, knew every child that lived there and sketched out a chart and a graph on two pages of his notebook, and leaned back, watching the others play. Soon, though, he found this to be boring. Watching small children go from one thing to the next in a matter of minutes was annoying, and the older teens would only sit somewhere and have long conversations, probably in the "He said she said" style. He sighed, disappointed. He seemed to be sighing an awful lot recently.

His eyes wandered over to where Matt was leaning against the brick building, playing on some handheld device. For the first time (not that it had been long since they'd met), he observed Matt thoroughly. Even though it was cold in the early December air- cold enough for his breath to be seen as little puffs of white- the redhead was only wearing a thin-looking red-and-black striped shirt, though he had enough sense for it to be long-sleeved. He was also wearing strange-looking blue jeans tucked into black boots. Combine that with his orange goggles (that he said looked cool- loser!), he looked like a complete freak.

Mello chuckled quietly. Maybe Matt would be fun to mess around with. The blonde reached out to one of the limbs and broke off a nice sized stick, one that was about an inch thick. Matt didn't notice the cracking, and neither did any others playing in the yard, which was good.

He cracked a piece of the stick off as quietly as he could and aimed it at the brick wall above Matt. Then, he threw it, the stick flying through the air, hitting the bricks, and falling down, knocking Matt on the top of his head. Matt seems shocked as he looked up, mouth hanging open. Mello bit his hand to contain his laughter at the goofy look on Matt's face.

After a few moments, Matt turned back to his game, not bothering to investigate further. Mello smiled cruelly and this time, hurled a piece of the stick to the side of Matt, and it bonked him in the ear. Matt shouted, "Gah!" and whirled toward Mello, who was laughing so hard his stomach hurt.

"Mello, jerk!" Matt whined, stomping over and glaring up at Mello's spot in the tree, which only made Mello laugh harder.

Before he knew it, he'd rolled off the limb, gasping and grabbing for the branch just a little too late.

* * *

**A/N: Oooooh, cliffhanger! Pfft, bitch please. I just didn't feel like writing this before, and then I decided to sit down and write so the update didn't come _too_ late, and couldn't really come up with much. I read over the other chapters and realized I don't like my writing very much; it's kind of boring. But I'm writing this for fun, so I'm not going to stress over it. **

**I've got a million ideas for this doin' the swirlies in my head, and I cannot seem to find the right place for any of them. I will find a proper place for them one day, though!  
**


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